


Pour Some Sugar on Me

by EternalFangirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, I am going to hell, M/M, Muchos kink, Sugar Baby Merlin, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Arthur, Who has no money, YOLO, merlin is in college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalFangirl/pseuds/EternalFangirl
Summary: Merlin was fucked. He needed to pay his college fees, but there was a distinct lack of certain funds. He was trying to tell himself his dream was over and it was time to go home. That was, of course, until someone online asked him what he was willing to do for the money. A surprisingly complicated romance.





	1. C'mon Get it On

**Author's Note:**

> Nope, I haven’t studied at King’s. I just liked it because it was prestigious, and there’s a royalty pun in the name. I studied college in India, where we were mostly like school students. I had packed lunch and a uniform. It was a horrid, nightmarish experience and I would like to stop talking about it now, please.
> 
> [Here](http://www.kcl.ac.uk/study/accommodation/residences/take-a-closer-look-at-champion-hill.aspx#ad-image-0)’s Merlin and Gwaine’s room, and [here](http://tesco.scene7.com/is/image/tesco/217-8897_PI_1000536MN?wid=493&ht=538)’s the toy Will gave Merlin.

The bills were judging him again.

 

Oh, they looked like innocent bits of folded paper, of course they did, but Merlin knew the truth. They were disappointed in him for not pulling wads of cash out of his arse and paying them off with a flourish.

 

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t trying, to be honest. He had already asked for an extra hour at the coffeeshop, plus an advance from Gwen, which she had been kind to hand him without a word. He was already coming home at nine every day. There was no way to get a night shift on another job and keep up with his homework. There was also no way he was going to ask his mum for more money. She had given him enough as it was.

 

And he was still more than a thousand pounds short.

 

“I’m fucked,” he moaned to the majestic-yet-ugly dragon toy Will had given him more than an year ago now. “I am so fucking fucked.” The dragon just smiled at him creepily, like he knew of a secret and wasn’t telling Merlin. Merlin stuck his tongue out at the obnoxious thing.

Well, desperate measures. Merlin thought about grabbing something for lunch while he waited for some enlightened soul to uncover the mysteries of college financing to him. The kitchen was too far off, and Merlin was tired from hauling in all his crap. He was feeling hella lazy.

 

“Nuked a pizza for you,” said Gwaine as he entered their room with a flourish. He placed the pizza on their table, grinned insolently, then fell onto his bed, disregarding the utter mess he had left on it before he had left to hunt and gather.

 

Merlin muttered a quick thanks and scrambled to feed himself. It tasted bad, but even bad pizza is still _pizza,_ and he was sure he was going to have to set up Gwaine’s side of the room soon enough. He had learned this the hard way, and was proud to say he had survived an year with Gwaine. The man in question had even given him a badge for it before they left for holiday.

 

“What’s bothering you now?” asked Gwaine with a frown. When Merlin shook his head, his voice turned into an annoying sing-song. “Aww come on, now. Tell daddy what’s wrong, and he will fix it for you.”

 

“I need about two thousand pounds before the month is out.”

 

There was silence for a while, something these walls were unused to. “Or, like, he won’t. Would you like a shoulder to cry on instead?”

 

“When they kick me out,” said Merlin, suddenly not that interested in food. His stomach felt funny. He didn’t want to talk about it, either.Instead of looking at Gwaine’s helplessly sympathetic face, Merlin grabbed his phone and started looking at his notifications. It took him a minute to understand he had left out an important qualifier before.

Now that the quantifier was up, Merlin wasn’t very hopeful.

* * *

The rest of his afternoon was spent cleaning Gwaine’s side of the room. Lance hadn’t made it to Champion Hill, yet, but he was going to arrive either later in the day or early the next one. Merlin often wished Lance was his roomie instead. At least he knew how to use a cupboard.

 

“Have you _ever_ cleaned up after yourself?” Merlin asked with genuine curiosity.

 

“Nope,” said Gwaine. “I tried once, but my nanny fainted.”

 

“What the fuck for?” said Merlin as he tried to wrestle Gwaine’s gigantic suitcase into his closet.

 

Gwaine, to his credit, stopped tweeting absurd suggestions to Merlin and came to help. “It was too much for her. I wasn’t supposed to actually put away my toys myself, or tidy my bed. I wasn’t allowed to do any of those things.” He paused for a second. “Dad fired the maid.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

The faraway look in Gwaine’s eyes disappeared and he shook himself off. “See? That’s why I don’t clean up after myself. He could still be spying on me,” he whispered with a grin. “Besides, I pay you to, so why bother trying to change my filthy habits?”

 

“I need a raise,” said Merlin immediately.

* * *

The idea struck him somewhere through dinner.

He flopped down on his bed, hope springing eternal in his chest. This was it. The answer. He could earn enough for college by wanking. He didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink (much), and there was no way he had an STD. So he was bound to be a prime candidate, yeah?

  
  


He was wallowing in the injustice of his situation when Gwen replied to his tweet, asking him why he wasn’t going ahead and donating his sperm anyways. It would still be good cash in his pocket. He stared at the tweet for a minute, trying to think of Gwen having a rational discussion with him about his cum. He shuddered.

 

Merlin had never really been into the idea of organized religion, but he was willing to pray to every God out there. “Seriously, guys,” he said to the ceiling. “I will start believing in whichever one fixes this for me. Christ? Perfect, no problem. Allah? Sure, just don’t tell my mom. Buddha? Sure, just zen me out on this.” He paused for a second, eyes on the fascinating white paint. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Come on!”

 

* * *

 

Gwaine celebrated coming back to college in the same way he celebrated most things--he drank.

 

Since the stuff he loved was strong as fuck, Merlin wisely chose to stick to a single dose of the vile, expensive stuff. He still coughed and sputtered, which was so hilarious to Gwaine’s pickled brains that he shoved another at Merlin.

 

And before long, Merlin was drunk and whining.  


“Dreams,” he said sagely to the blurry, Gwaine-shaped mass in front of him. “It’s dreams that fuck you up.”

 

“I once dreamt of eating a cheese that tasted like apple pie,” slurred Gwaine. “It was tasty as fuck.”

“Dreams fuck you up, Gwaine,” said Merlin with drunken urgency. “You want to help the war-torn nations of the world--”

 

“Why would I want that?”

 

“--and you decide to become a doctor,” hiccuped Merlin. “Hatch people--No, patch people up. Then your dream school hands you all these scholarships, and you are suckered in. Just, like,” he leaned forward, almost toppling over, to look Gwaine in the eyes. He was about four inches off the mark, but it was the best he could do. “Just… schwoop! And you are sucked in!” He sat back, suddenly weepy. “And then they take the fucking money away.”

 

“In their defence,” said Gwaine. “They did tell you the scholarship was for first years.”

 

Merlin windmilled his spindly arms to better corral his defence. “Yesh!”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Yes,” repeated Merlin. “But they did say there were other scholarships I could apply for, and get, didn’t they?”

 

“You did get the other scholarship… the one with the fucked up name.”

 

“Which only pays four thousand pounds! Who is going to pay the other five? Huh?”

 

Gwaine didn’t answer. Merlin sighed, indignation dissolving. He was suddenly so tired of chasing his own dream.

  



	2. Lover with a radar phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs, coffee and free babysitting hours for @audlie45, who replied to my midnight call for help in naming Arthur’s Twitter handle, as well as the man himself. The profile pic is uploaded exactly as she sent it to me, and she was amazing enough to scroll through a textbook’s worth of previous messages to find the names we had brainstormed before. Thank you, Rosa. You are more awesome than free Starbucks coffee.
> 
> The name Andrew means the same as Arthur, noble and courageous. I liked the wordplay of that.
> 
> Here’s [Federation Coffee](http://federation.coffee/index.html), where Merlin works. I have tinkered with it’s times a bit. Even though it closes at 5 PM, I need Merlin to take his shift till 8. So… I have done that. Because… Artistic license?

Merlin just wanted to go home.

 

He was too tired, too depressed, and too stressed to be appropriately social to the patrons. He gave them their coffee, counted out their change, and kept a semblance of a smile on his face. That was literally all he could do.

 

His shift was almost ending. He studiously ignored the wall clock, desperate to not be  _ that  _ employee, but it took a lot of willpower. He just wanted to go to bed. He wanted to take off his shoes. He wanted to eat every muffin in the darn store.

 

“Merlin?” Gwen said softly as she finished looking through the books for the day. 

 

“Yeah?” Merlin said, his heart sinking at the thought of being asked to close. He really didn’t want to be stuck here longer than he usually was. 

 

“I was wondering… you should head back, go home,” said Gwen. She smiled at his relieved expression. “It’s only a few minutes to eight, and I will close up. I need to be here, anyways, figure out these damn payments.”

 

“You know, Gwen,” said Merlin seriously. “You are the only woman I would ever consider snogging.”

 

Gwen laughed, a pretty blush blossoming on her cheeks. “Oh, get out, Merlin!”

 

Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. He grinned at the couple who came into the coffee shop as he was exiting, suddenly refreshed. He could smell the instant noodles he was going to make once he was back at the Hill. All was right with the world.

 

His phone chirped as he was taking the lock off his bike. Still grinning, he thumbed it open. It was a new Twitter message.

Well, that was… confusing. 

 

Merlin stared at the message for a minute, wondering if someone had actually taken him seriously about the kidney-selling thing, but then decided to shrug it off. It was probably just spam. He hopped on his bike and started the ride back home, still thinking. What kind of message was that? It looked like clickbait. Maybe if he talked to the guy, all he would get would be one of those phony referral websites.

 

He shook his head and rode on.

  
It was still in his head as he boiled water for his top ramen. Did he really have a choice? He was in no condition to actually refuse help. The man in the photo, if that was Andrew King, looked like he might be a businessman or something. Maybe he really could help. No harm in asking.

  


Merlin frowned with a forkful of chicken noodles in front of his open mouth. The man came across as a little creepy, and his use of Merlin’s name just felt too much like… like Merlin would be following a stranger into a van for some candy, really. Merlin wasn’t sure it was a good idea anymore.

He tossed his phone to the nightstand, certain he wasn’t going to be talking to Andrew King anymore.

* * *

 

_ Five days later _

__  


 

“I am fucked.”

“Mate,” said Gwaine languidly. “If you were fucked as often as you say, Lord have mercy on your sweet arse.”

“No, no, this time I mean it,” said Merlin, fighting through the alcohol buzzing in his head to see Gwaine clearly. “The secondary education system is raping my sweet arse, and I am going to pay for my dreams with my balls. My sweet balls.”

“I would have thought they would be salty,” said Gwaine, before cackling like only the truly sloshed can manage. 

“I have never tasted them,” said Merlin morosely. “No one has. And now they will belong to the crown of England.”

“A fitting addition to the tower jewels, yeah?”

“I hate being poor, Gwaine.”

Gwaine listed sideways sharply when he moved to pat Merlin’s hand sympathetically, missing the hand and stroking the armrest instead. “It will be okay, Dumbo… you just have to think outside the box.”

“I don’t have a box,” wailed Merlin. “I am too poor to afford one.”

* * *

Merlin woke with a hangover that rang like cathedral bells. He was face-down on a bed—his bed?—while sunlight streamed cruelly through the curtains he had neglected to close the night before.

He had aspirin. Probably. Somewhere. Oh, if only there was a merciful God who would remind him where the hell he'd stashed the bottle of Advil. He'd crawl to it himself, if only he knew where to drag his poor, abused body.

And why hadn't he pulled the shades? Why couldn't that merciful God turn down the sunlight so it wasn't blasting like a red furnace against his aching eyes?

Because he'd worshipped the god of whiskey, that's why. He'd broken a commandment and worshipped the false and smooth god of whiskey. And now he was being punished.

He thought the aspirin, which now took on the weight of his salvation, was most likely in the bathroom. He prayed it was as he covered his eyes with one hand, eased himself out of bed. His moan was heartfelt, and turned into something more like a scream when he tripped over his shoes and fell flat on his face.

He barely had the strength to whimper, much less swear.

He made it to his hands and knees, balanced there, prayed there until he got most of his breath back.

He managed to get to his feet, while his banging head spun and his stomach churned. He vowed, feverently, never to get this drunk again. At least not without making out with a bottle of water like it was his soulmate.

Was he going to puke?

He had his medical breakfast, finally gaining enough brainpower to wonder if Gwaine was already in class, the wanker. Hangovers gave Gwaine a wide berth, simply because his perfect remedy for one was to drink himself blind again in the middle of the day. Even hangovers were scared of his drinking.

Sighing, Merlin checked his phone. It was ten thirty already. Not only had he  _ not  _ paid the tuition yet, he wasn’t even soaking up all the education he could while he was still allowed to. He was pathetic. Merlin had half a mind to punish himself by opening the curtains he had hastily closed.

That was when he noticed he had a notification from Twitter, among the normal garbage he woke up to. Andrew King had apparently sent him an “Okay”. Curious, he opened it up.

And promptly decided that searing his eyes wasn’t really punishment enough.

 

Well, shit.

* * *

Merlin spent the whole afternoon nursing his hangover and trying to decide between ignoring Andrew King or explaining himself. He didn’t want to explain his drunken behaviour. This entire thing was so surreal it was giving his headache a headache.

He wanted a picture. Just a picture. There was no harm in that, was there? He had posted selfies on Twitter before, right? How was sending one exclusively to a guy any different? It was the instructions that worried him. His drunken ass hadn’t bothered to ask for a clarification, but at least Andrew King had decided to tell him they wouldn’t meet in person. That was good, right? It would be an online relationship.

_ For money, _ said a sneaky voice in the back of his head. It sounded like his mate Will.  _ You’d be whoring yourself out.  _

But did it count as whoring if nobody other than you touched you? He would just be following instructions for money. Right?

Merlin was fiddling with his phone when Gwaine came into the room, intent upon a nap before the afternoon classes. “Yo,” he said. “Classes were boring as fuck. Catrina showed some cleavage though.”

“Not interested,” said Merlin distractedly. He was trying to think.

“What is it?” Gwaine stopped mid-sprawl, his face the study of concern. “Did they kick you out? They can’t do that yet!”

Merlin soundlessly handed over his phone. Someone had to know, someone had to knock some sense into him and stop this insanity of his. He was being crazy. Gwaine would tell him so. Merlin couldn’t even fathom talking to Gwen about something so scandalous, and the entire universe would probably explode if he tried to besmirch Lance’s pure mind with something so filthy. That left Gwaine to be the voice of reason.

“This is perfect!” yelled Gwaine, his face splitting into a giant, happy, hairy grin.

Perhaps Gwaine wasn’t the best idea.

 


End file.
